


stray

by the_gabih



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alpha Dimitri, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Cunnilingus, Knotting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Sylvain, Omega Sylvain Week, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:27:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23974471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_gabih/pseuds/the_gabih
Summary: Dimitri is meant for Felix. Sylvain knows this. Dimitri is for Felix, Felix is for Dimitri, and Sylvain is destined for the border and a life on suppressants.So what will it hurt if he indulges himself, just this once?
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Sylvain Jose Gautier, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 21
Kudos: 166
Collections: Omega Sylvain Week





	stray

It’s day three of his heat when Sylvain finally throws his dildo across the room in a fit of pique. He regrets it almost instantly- he hasn’t dusted in a while, who knows what it’s picked up off the floor- but he doesn’t have the energy to go wash it, so instead he settles for throwing an arm over his eyes.

Fuck this. The suppressants were supposed to be good, and he took them religiously. What the hell happened? Was it all the sex, triggering something? Who the fuck knew. He’ll look it up later, perhaps, once his brain and body stop fucking screaming at him to make a baby already.

It takes him a few moments to notice the knocking. Fuck. Is it the professor? Fucking Seteth? Fuck knows he can’t handle either of them right now. He definitely can’t handle word getting back to his father.

He swallows. Hard. “Yeah?”

“Sylvain?” Dimitri. His shoulders slump for a moment in relief before tensing again. Dimitri doesn’t know. Nobody knows, nobody’s supposed to know. “Are you alright?”

“Y-yeah,” he calls, tugging the blankets tightly around himself. “M’fine.”

He can almost hear the frown in Dimitri’s voice when he responds. “You don’t sound it. Is it…” His voice drops. “I assume from the scent that you are in heat?”

Fuck. Game over, he guesses. He shuffles awkwardly into a sitting position. “This isn’t a conversation I wanna have with you out in the hallway.”

“Ah. Of course.” A pause. “May I…”

“Come in, yeah.” He might as well. The door is pushed slowly to, and Dimitri slips round it, almost tripping over himself in his haste to shut it behind him.

“I apologise for the intrusion. You had not emerged from your quarters for some time, we were- I was worried that something was wrong. But if you are… is there anything I can get you? Anyone I should ask to accompany you?”

“Why, are you offering?”

Sylvain winks, and is rewarded by a deep flush rising in Dimitri’s cheeks. “I- no, that would be… I mean, I am flattered, certainly, but it would hardly be proper.”

“Yeah, I know. Don’t worry, your highness. You’ve gotta save it for someone special, I get it.”

“That’s not- regardless.” Dimitri’s breathing is slow. Shallow. Sylvain’s a little worried he’s going to keel over if he keeps it up. “Can I get you anything? Water, food, blankets? I confess I do not know much about the nesting instinct, but I am willing to help, if I can.”

Fuck, he genuinely would love him to. But it would be a terrible idea to fuck the prince, even if the prince wanted to be fucked, which he clearly doesn’t. Sylvain tries to imagine dumping a bucket of cold water over his head, to little avail. “Um. A drink would be good, yeah. Maybe a bit of food, too? Bread, cheese, apples. Nothing too heavy.”

Dimitri nods. “Of course. I will be back momentarily.”

He shuts the door behind him hastily enough that it rattles the frame. Sylvain snorts, then bites back a moan as the rush of indrawn breath that follows draws Dimitri’s scent into his lungs. Fuck. His musk is gloriously rich and heady, either as a response to Sylvain’s own heat, or Dimitri’s on the cusp of his rut, too. Maybe both, but Sylvain’s not as enamoured of himself as a lot of people seem to think. If Dimitri wants him, it’s nothing deeper than an instinctive need to fuck. To breed.

The thought sends heat roiling through him again. Dimitri probably has a really fucking good knot. It would stretch Sylvain out so wide, so perfectly. He reaches down between his legs to finger his cunt again and sinks three digits in with ease. He’s got some time before Dimitri gets back, right? He might as well make the most of it. He crooks his fingers, stroking the middle finger against the gland towards the front of his hole while he stretches the other two out wide. It’s not gonna fill him properly, but with an alpha scent in the air it might…

It doesn’t. He doesn’t know quite how long he spends trying- time kind of loses its meaning when you’re like this- but his fingers are wrinkled and a fresh puddle of slick has emerged by the time he begins to realise he’s not gonna cum, no matter how long he holds himself on the edge like this. He keens helplessly, his free hand bunching up the blankets as he squeezes his thighs over and over, trying to tip himself over to the place where the overintensity becomes pleasure again, even if just for a moment.

He doesn’t even hear the knock at the door. He hears Dimitri, though, his voice low and soft. “Sylvain? I’ve brought the provisions you asked for. May I come in?”

“Y-yeah,” Sylvain pants, uncaring of the fact that he is now wholly naked and exposed, the covers kicked to one side to show the place where his fingers are sinking inside himself in all its glory. The door opens, and Dimitri takes a step in, doing a gratifying double-take at the sight. His eyes seem almost to affix themselves to Sylvain’s body, and his scent fills the room.

Seiros, he _wants_.

“I am sorry,” Dimitri stammers, after opening and closing his mouth a few times. “I did not mean to interrupt.”

Sylvain shakes his head, withdrawing his hand from his cunt. His fingers are trembling as he swipes them across the blanket, which is dirty enough that it’s probably not doing them much good anymore. “S’my fault. I got… distracted.”

“I imagine it is hard not to. I will confess to being much the same, in rut.” Dimitri carefully sets the tray down on the bedside table, which is when Sylvain realises he’s carrying an extra cloak. “Here,” he says, detaching it from his shoulders and holding it out. “I do not know if this will be helpful, but I had heard that…your current situation may sometimes be alleviated by the scent of an alpha.”

Sylvain stares up at him. “Wait. That’s yours?”

“Yes. I apologise, I imagine my scent is not particularly attractive to you in and of itself, but…”

“No, no that’s not it. Your scent’s fucking gorgeous.” Whoops. Shouldn’t have said that. He swallows. “I mean, _you’re_ fucking gorgeous, not just your scent, but- “No, not that either. “Sorry. What I meant to say is, that’s gonna smell like me by the time I’m done with it. Like, a _lot_. I don’t want you to have to give up your cloak ‘cause it stinks of someone you don’t want.”

Dimitri frowns. “Why would I- why would you think I do not…?”

“Cause you like Felix, right? I mean, I’m an idiot, but I’m not that much of an idiot. I’ve seen the way you look at him.”

Dimitri’s eyes widen. “I don’t- Felix and I are not… it would be inappropriate, even if he felt the same way.”

“Pretty sure he does, dude. He doesn’t stalk most people the way he does you.”

“I don’t think that is generally considered to be a way of expressing affection.” The arm holding the cloak dips, as though weighted with Dimitri’s disappointment. Sylvain can practically smell it on him, and even without the dumb hormonal urge to make an alpha happy, he’s always been a sucker for any of his friends looking upset. He shuffles into more of a sitting position and pats the mattress next to him unthinkingly before quickly putting his hand in his lap. No. Bad idea.

“We’re talking about Felix, right? He doesn’t exactly do affection. Just really, really deep-down feelings that he covers up by being an asshole.”

He’s rewarded with a faint lip quirk. “You’re remarkably eloquent about him, for someone in the throes of heat.”

Sylvain shrugs a shoulder. “Yeah, well. Spent a lot of time running around after you guys, haven’t I? Gotta be good for something.”

He watches as Dimitri’s head tilts, just ever so faintly, as though he’s re-evaluating Sylvain. As he lowers the cloak and moves to crouch by the bed. Whatever conclusion he’s come to, Sylvain’s not entirely sure he wants to know. “You are good for a great many things,” he says slowly. “But that is not why either of us value you as a friend.”

Sylvain blinks. He has the distinct sense that he’s lost control of this conversation. “What?”

“You are dear to me,” Dimitri murmurs. “You always have been. I am only sorry that I have not spent as much time with you lately as you deserve.”

“What?” Sylvain says again, intelligently. “I- no, it’s okay. You’ve got princely stuff to get on with. I get it.”

“I do, but that is no excuse for neglecting one of my oldest companions. One of my dearest.” Dimitri’s voice is low now, a little husky too. He’s very, very close. Sylvain has the urge to draw the blanket up and over himself to cover his nakedness. He also has the urge to kick it off entirely, spread his legs wide and beg for Dimitri’s cock. It takes a great enough effort of will not to do the latter that he fails to achieve the former, either.

“Okay, well, I definitely haven’t been neglected, don’t worry. Feeling very well cared for right now, in fact. Thank you,” he adds, reaching for one of the apples and realising as his hand just misses Dimitri’s face in passing that it’s still covered in slick. Dammit. He just keeps getting better and better at this.

“You are welcome,” Dimitri nods, even as his nostrils flare. His eyes track the movement of Sylvain’s fingers, sharp in a way Sylvain’s only ever seen on the battlefield before. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“Like what?”

A shrug, the motion oddly elegant as Dimitri’s gaze trails from Sylvain’s hand down. “Something to alleviate your heat, perhaps. Although I would not presume…” His cheeks pink again, and Sylvain almost grins.

“Presume what,” he asks, feeling suddenly bold, “that I might want you to fuck me through it?”

Dimitri’s cheeks go an even deeper shade of red. “I- yes. That. I… I am aware that omegas are more discerning than many alphas allow for, even during a heat cycle. I would not wish to force myself upon you.”

“Uh huh. And what if I said I wanted you before this?”

Dimitri blinks at him. “I beg your pardon?”

“Wasn’t in heat last week. Still thought about you when I fucked myself.”

“I…” Dimitri’s voice comes out in a strangled little squeak. “What?”

“Yeah. I mean, Felix too, but I’m pretty sure I have crushes on the two of you separately, not just ‘cause I think you’d be hot together. Though that definitely applies too.” Fuck, why is he running his mouth like this?

“I don’t- he wouldn’t- since when?”

Sylvain shrugs, feigning nonchalance. Dimitri and Felix are, like, fated. Destined for each other. Sylvain’s destined for the border and a life spent on suppressants. Mustn’t fuck that up. But Seiros, it’s getting harder by the second to remind himself of that. “A while? I mean, you don’t have to do anything,” he says quickly. “Like I said, if you’re not interested, I get that, but-”

“No, I- I am. Would be interested, that is, if you were inclined to… you are certain this is not just because of your heat?”

“Positive. What, you don’t think a face that handsome would stop at just charming all the ladies, do you?”

“I didn’t think it charmed anyone,” Dimitri says, and Sylvain can well believe he thinks so. “Let alone… someone who had already charmed me.”

He looks oddly shy when he glances back up at Sylvain’s face, even though at this point he’s seen him more intimately than any of their classmates. Or maybe it’s because he’s seeing him like this. Maybe it’s the first time he’s seen anyone like this. He always was a bit of a prude, but a determinedly earnest one. Sylvain’s heart does an odd sort of flutter in his chest. It’s a novel feeling.

“Yeah, well,” he says, softening his voice just a touch. “Consider me really fucking charmed.”

Dimitri huffs a laugh. The noise is soft, but it doesn’t stop warmth diffusing through Sylvain’s chest. When was the last time he’d heard him laugh, period? He wipes his hand off on the blanket, holding the less-soaked one out. “C’mere.”

A blink, then Dimitri obeys, setting the cloak down on the side of the bed and leaning hesitantly forward. He starts when Sylvain’s fingertips brush against his cheek, but a moment later he leans into the touch, less a boar and more a cat who doesn’t quite grasp the concept of petting. Sylvain finds himself smiling, a soft, goofy expression settling over his face.

“Can I kiss you?”

Dimitri’s eyes widen, and Sylvain has a fraction of a second to steel himself against rejection before a “yes” tumbles from his lips. He almost thinks he misheard Dimitri for a second. This is… is this really happening?

Apparently, yes, judging by the way Dimitri’s looking at him, soft and expectant and more than a little nervous. He’ll have to take it slow, probably, for all that his body is screaming at him to roll over and present already. That’s okay. His body is dumb. He does what he wants, and right now what he wants is to tilt his head just ever so slightly and lean in towards Dimitri. The scent of him is even stronger up close and he breathes it in, feeling it surround him like a thick blanket as their lips touch. Dimitri’s are dry and chapped, and his nose bumps against Sylvain’s cheek as he inhales sharply, though the kiss is entirely chaste (well, when taken out of their current context, anyway). Sylvain pulls back almost before it’s begun, looking up to check if Dimitri’s still okay.

Dimitri blinks as if they were sparring and Sylvain had just landed a hit. Then he leans in and kisses him back, his mouth knocking against Sylvain’s with the eagerness of the motion. “I apologise,” he stammers, “I did not mean to-“

Sylvain grins and kisses him again, his hand shifting from Dimitri’s cheek to his hair in a way that makes him shiver and press closer. Their mouths push together again and again, and after Sylvain draws his lips closed for the tenth, eleventh time (who’s counting?) he opens them wider, leaning back against the bed and almost purring when Dimitri bends to follow him over. The kiss deepens, Dimitri’s tongue inexperienced but enthusiastic against Sylvain’s.

Another wave of heat rolls through him as Dimitri’s shirt brushes over his chest and he moans into the kiss before he can think to bite it back. Dimitri pulls back, his brows furrowed. “Are you alright?”

Sylvain nods. “Yeah. Feels really good.”

“I am glad,” Dimitri murmurs, his expression softening. He raises a hand, reaching out hesitantly for Sylvain’s shoulder. He pauses for a moment, holding it in the air before settling it against Sylvain’s upper arm and stroking it gently down. It’s not massively sensitive- at least, not normally- but for Sylvain’s heat brain, it’s enough to have him biting back a whimper.

“Please…”

Dimitri draws his hand back, looking down at Sylvain with wide, concerned eyes. “I am sorry, was that-?”

“Please,” Sylvain says again, “stop apologising and _touch me_.”

He’s never normally this vocal, this needy in bed- but then he’s never shared a heat with anyone, either. Never had a fucking beautiful man leaning over him looking like he’s an inch away from either running away or fucking him into the mattress. Sylvain’s very much hoping he settles on the latter.

As he watches, Dimitri’s pupils expand into twin pools of darkness. His nostrils flare again in a long, deliberate scenting and he shifts forward onto the bed, allowing the cloak he’d been holding to fall away in favour of clenching his fist in the sheets. “If we continue,” he says, his voice shot through with an odd gravelly tone that Sylvain takes a moment to recognise as arousal, “I will warn you that I am not always…gentle, in rut. If you do not wish to have me-“

“Fuck, Dima,” Sylvain breathes, his cunt clenching at the thought of what ‘not gentle’ looks like from a man who has been known to shatter lances just by picking them up. It’s probably not a good thing to be turned on by, but he hasn’t got the brain space to care. “I want you more than anything. Please.”

Dimitri stares at him, pinning Sylvain in place with the sheer intensity of his gaze. Sylvain swears he can feel every beat of his heart, hear every breath each of them take.

Then he instinctively twitches his legs a little wider and Dimitri is on him, shoving him back against the mattress with a low growl and kissing him again. It’s clumsy, demanding. A little slobbery, really, and certainly not the best kiss he’s ever had. But Sylvain surges up into it with a moan, shifting his hips to hitch a leg up over Dimitri’s back as the alpha climbs atop him, and fuck, he can already feel something hard shoving against his thigh through Dimitri’s uniform trousers. The hand on his arm shifts across to his waist, holding it in a grip that makes Sylvain’s mind skip to the shattered lances, though he’s pretty sure he’s not about to get any broken bones. Probably. And if he does, it’s a problem for future-him to deal with.

The kiss breaks apart and they both gasp for breath, their mouths close enough for the air to fan out across each other’s skin as they stare at each other. Sylvain realises he’s trembling, exhaustion and arousal vibrating in tandem through each limb in contrast with Dimitri, who leans over him with the grace of a wild cat about to go in for the kill, the only movement in his body that of his lungs pulling in the needed air. Sylvain can’t help but whimper at the sight, the sound, the smell of him; he can’t present like this, not properly, but his legs are wide, and he lets his arms fall against the mattress as his head tilts back in invitation.

_Please_.

Dimitri freezes, his breath audibly catching in his throat. Sylvain watches his face twitch, different expressions flickering across it faster than he can interpret until he growls low in his throat and descends on Sylvain’s chest, deliberately avoiding his neck in favour of licking and sucking at Sylvain’s nipples. Sylvain arches up against him with a hiccupping moan, pushing a hand up against the headboard to steady himself and bringing his other hand down to thread through Dimitri’s hair and stroke it out of his face. Dimitri bites down at Sylvain’s skin, his hands tightening on his hips, but for all his ferocity he leans into Sylvain’s touch and when he looks up, the naked arousal and tenderness on his face takes Sylvain’s breath away.

Then he’s moving back down, his mouth skating over Sylvain’s chest, pressing kisses to every inch of skin- the bit over his stomach kinda tickles, but he’s hoping the squirming gets read as being for other reasons- and it takes Sylvain a moment to realises he’s going right the way down to-

Sylvain’s back arches almost off the bed when Dimitri licks at the base of his cock. “Ah! F-fuck, what’re you-?” He’s heard plenty about how alphas are in bed, and none of it involved them being the ones to go down on someone. But Dimitri is determined, thorough, licking up and over his cock for the last traces of where Sylvain had used his own slick to stroke it earlier, desperate to get off. If Sylvain thought he was a gasping mess before, he’s reduced to even more of one now, panting and writhing with each lick like a girl who’s never been touched before.

But soon enough every trace has been thoroughly cleaned off him, and Dimitri bends lower, still chasing more. Sylvain’s eyes widen as he realises exactly what he’s doing, in the moment before Dimitri’s tongue licks over his cunt and then presses suddenly inside.

“Alpha,” he gasps, reaching down to clutch at Dimitri’s hair. He’s done this for other people before, but never had it done to him. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands, with his legs. Dimitri just grunts, his big, strong hands pushing Sylvain’s trembling thighs apart and holding them open while he fucking goes to town.

The flat of his tongue licking at his rim, the way it feels when he pushes it in deeper- it’s nowhere near as filling even as Sylvain’s own fingers, and his cunt aches for the emptiness, but it feels so unbelievably good at the same time. There’s no technique to it, just a desperate hunger. Sylvain rocks his hips as best he can with Dimitri gripping his thighs, all but riding his prince’s face. Fuck, this is so wrong, and yet. “Please,” he breathes, and Dimitri grunts again as Sylvain’s grip in his hair tightens. “Please, pleasepleaseplease…”

Dimitri shoves forward, pushing two fingers in alongside his tongue, and Sylvain would wonder how he knew to do that if he weren’t coming hard. Shudders roll through his body in waves, slick dripping out freely over Dimitri’s tongue. Sylvain is a trembling mess by the end of it, his body beaded in sweat, but Dimitri doesn’t let up for a second. If anything he seems to become more frantic, and the bed creaks as he grinds against it, still licking and sucking enthusiastically at Sylvain’s cunt.

His fingers are clumsy, but Sylvain hardly needs something refined at this point. His fingers, his tongue, his face- he’ll take whatever Dimitri gives him, and gladly. He gasps a moan as Dimitri tugs his hips up off the bed, the better to shove in as deep as he can manage, and the dizzying display of strength is enough to make him come again, keening his pleasure without a care for who might hear it.

Dimitri does pull back then, just for a moment, to gasp in a deep lungful of air. His face is absolutely coated in slick, sodden with it from cheekbones to neck, and Sylvain whimpers at the sight.

“Please,” he gasps. “Please, alpha, I need-” His body is aching now to be full, every part of him alight with the desire- the need- to have Dimitri’s cock buried deep inside where he needs it. He’s far past the point of coherence now, but Dimitri seems to understand, lowering his legs gently back to the bed before crawling forward again. Sylvain spreads his legs wider, hitching one of them up over Dimitri’s back so that when they rut together, the bulge of Dimitri’s cock presses right up against his crotch, making them both groan.

“Fuck, alpha,” he breathes, wishing for a moment his nails were longer so they could properly dig into Dimitri’s back. He wants to leave his mark, even if he can’t have him. Wants Dimitri’s back to show proof of what happened, that he was there. He’s never usually this possessive, but he’ll chalk it up to hormones gone wild.

Dimitri growls again, thrusting more sharply, and Sylvain whimpers at the feel of his cock so close to where he needs it. Dimitri keeps thrusting, though, and after a moment it occurs to Sylvain that some help might be needed if they’re both gonna get what they want. He reaches down, nudging his hand between their bodies even as his head spins. It’s a tricky proposition, getting Dimitri’s pants laces undone while they’re both still moving together, but his experience pays off again. On the next thrust, the friction from Sylvain’s hips push the pants down Dimitri’s hips, and a moment’s fumbling later his cock is out and throbbing in Sylvain’s hand.

Oh, fuck. No going back now, huh? Sylvain bites his lip, looking up into wide, blue eyes as Dimitri stills for a moment- just long enough for his cock to be nudged up against Sylvain’s cunt, at which point he rocks his hips forward again.

Sylvain can’t help but moan. It occurs to some dusty corner of his brain that some kind of protection would’ve been useful here, but the rest is far too occupied with the way the head of Dimitri’s cock fills him so perfectly, better than any toy he’s tried. Part of it is the unpredictability that comes with not being the one doing the thrusting, but mostly it’s the sheer heft of it.

Dimitri is still staring down at him, his body trembling faintly but otherwise not moving. He’s waiting, Sylvain realises. Even with a warm, willing omega in full heat under him, he still looks… concerned. Like what Sylvain wants matters. Or maybe like he doesn’t know what to do at this point, though it should be instinctual, right?

Sylvain wets his lips. “C’mon, gorgeous,” he says; his voice comes out hoarser than he’d planned. “C’mon, Dima. Fuck me.”

Dimitri’s brows draw together, and his first thrust is surprisingly slow. The head of his cock pushes Sylvain’s cunt wide around it, and Sylvain almost comes again then and there at the sheer joy of finally being filled. “Fuck, alpha,” he babbles, arching up against him. “Feels so fucking good, goddess. Filling me up so good. Please, I need it, need you, please.”

Their faces are so close like this, he can feel Dimitri’s breath fanning out over his cheek. Can feel the weight of him bearing down like when Dimitri pins him in training, and fuck, he’s never not gonna be distracted in the training grounds again, is he?

A moment later, Dimitri moves, and the thought is driven from Sylvain’s head by the sudden, sharp snap of his hips. Sylvain wails, his hands scrabbling for purchase at Dimitri’s back, and his “fuck, yes!” is apparently enough encouragement for Dimitri to keep doing it. The bed creaks loudly beneath them, but it’s a long way down on the list of things Sylvain cares about right now. All he wants, all he needs, is Dimitri’s cock ramming into him, for Dimitri to shift his mouth down and-

No biting. No biting, this is good. This is enough. It’ll have to be. Sylvain’s nails dig into Dimitri’s back, rake lines down the skin with each thrust, and when he tugs his brain back to focus solely on the way he feels- on Dimitri’s mind-blowingly huge cock beginning to swell at the base, on the feeling of his body over Sylvain’s, on the way Sylvain’s cock rubs up against his abdomen every time they move- it doesn’t take long for him to come again, wailing his pleasure to the rafters. Dimitri grunts and thrusts in one last time before Sylvain feels a flood of heat deep inside.

Oh, fuck. Nobody’s ever come inside him before. Not there. It feels so right, though. Making his ma- making Dimitri feel good. Being full, in every possible way. Finally, finally the heat haze begins to recede and Sylvain sags back against the bed. Dimitri’s knot shifts inside him whenever either of them moves, punching a groan from them both and another spurt of cum from Dimitri. Sylvain hitches his other leg up over Dimitri’s back, consumed by a sudden need for closeness, even though Dimitri’s unsupported weight atop him is making it kinda hard to breathe as deeply as he needs. He unclenches his hands from claws to soft palms to stroke over the scratches in Dimitri’s skin, and is pleased by the resultant shiver.

He doesn’t need more than this, he decides. This is enough. It’s gonna have to be. But hey, at least Felix will get someone with a bit of experience now. He brings a hand up to rub circles into Dimitri’s scalp, which elicits a low, contented noise and a nuzzle. This much, a fleeting day or so of pleasure- this is his forte. It doesn’t need to go any further. For now, though, he’ll take what he can get, and ignore the treacherous fluttering of his heart as Dimitri noses gently at his jawbone.

He tips his head back, feeling languid and heavy, and lets Dimitri press a kiss to the skin there. The alpha is careful to avoid the crook of his neck, which is probably for the best, instead nuzzling behind his ear, below his jaw, at his cheek. The slick on his face is growing sticky as it dries, but Sylvain doesn’t mind, nor does he mind the taste when, after a moment’s adorable hesitation (his cock is still buried knot-deep in Sylvain’s cunt, after all) he leans in to kiss him again.

It’s closed mouthed, hesitant, but Sylvain is willing to meet him where he’s at, brushing their lips together over and over, tasting hints of himself until Dimitri opens his mouth on a shaky exhale. Sylvain takes advantage then to nudge his lips wider, to lick inside and taste himself properly. Dimitri shivers again, his tongue moving in clumsy strokes against Sylvain’s, but he’s always been a quick study. Always so eager to please. It’s not long before he’s pushing back into Sylvain’s mouth, exploring him with almost as much fervour as he had his cunt.

“Fuck,” Sylvain breathes when they eventually break apart, both their chests heaving between them.

“I… yes,” Dimitri nods, his gaze fixed on Sylvain’s face, searching. “I apologise.”

Sylvain blinks. “What for?”

“For taking advantage,” Dimitri says quietly. “And for- I had thought I could keep my baser instincts in check. Did I hurt you?”

“Did you- goddess, no.” Sylvain shakes his head emphatically. “Dude, you feel- that was fucking amazing. Never apologise for fucking my brains out when I ask you to.”

There’s a faint, hesitant smile creeping over Dimitri’s face. “Duly noted,” he murmurs, his gaze falling to Sylvain’s lips, kiss-bruised and wet with spit and his own slick. Sylvain grins and clenches around him, enjoying the shuddering groan it pulls from Dimitri.

“You up for a round two?”

“A- was that not…?”

“No, no, that was great,” Sylvain assures him. “That was amazing. I’m just saying, do you wanna try this in reverse?”

Dimitri flushes deeper than just the exertion allows. “I- I do not think that would be… physically possible right now,” he says slowly. “Unless you are much more flexible than I know.”

Huh. So he’d let Sylvain-? It’s a stupid thing to wonder, since this isn’t gonna happen again, but it’s an interesting titbit to know. He’s never heard of an alpha who’d ever entertain the thought of being the one on the receiving end. But that hadn’t quite been his point, so he puts the idea aside for the moment. “I mean like-”

In years to come, when bards sing of his prowess in battle, Sylvain will still consider this to be the pinnacle of his physical strength. Despite the exhaustion of the last few days, despite the way every limb is still trembling with the aftershocks of orgasm, Sylvain smirks up at Dimitri, puts one of his legs down against the mattress, and uses it and his arm as leverage to flip their positions. The smirk lasts only until Dimitri’s cock is pushed still deeper by the force of gravity as Sylvain settles into place atop him, sinking down with an open-mouthed moan. “-like that,” he says, grinning down at Dimitri, who’s staring up at him like he just inverted everything he understood about the world.

Then he bucks up, and Sylvain sees stars. When he blinks to clear them, there’s a smile on Dimitri’s face.

“Like that?” he echoes, and Seiros, it’s been far, far too long since Sylvain’s seen him look mischievous, as opposed to sleepless, or paranoid, or murderous. It’s a good look on him.

“Yeah. Something like that.” Sylvain swivels his hips, feeling distinctly smug when Dimitri groans. “You like it?”

“Y-yes,” Dimitri nods. His hands move over the sheets like he doesn’t know what to do with them. Sylvain reaches down to take them in his own, and Dimitri- sweet, earnest Dimitri- apparently thinks he’s going for something much sappier than he is, because he strokes his thumbs over Sylvain’s fingers with a soft, reverent touch that makes his cheeks heat far more effectively than any of the sex had. “It feels good. You feel incredible.”

Sylvain bites his lip. It’s the hormones, he tells himself, on both their ends. And Dimitri’s tendency to be unfailingly polite about whatever anyone offers him, whether it’s the professor offering up a hard-won treasure or Flayn serving up tar-like sludge at dinner. “Yeah,” he mutters, unable to quite bring his gaze up to meet Dimitri’s. “You too.”

Dimitri’s brow creases. “Sylvain? I am sorry, I did not mean to…”

“Hey, no. It’s fine. You’re fine. You’re _fine_ ,” he repeats with a smirk to underlie the double meaning, rocking back again and tugging Dimitri’s hands gently over to his hips. “C’mon, put ‘em here. That’s it.”

Dimitri’s thumbs move again, stroking over Sylvain’s hipbones this time. Sylvain suppresses a shudder as he leans forward to plant his hands on the mattress. “Is this…?”

“Yeah,” Sylvain breathes, giving a little experimental roll of his hips that has them both gasping in unison. “Fuck. You’re so big, Dima. Stretching me so wide.”

Dimitri’s flush deepens, but his hands remain steady. “Would you like me to… help you?”

“Nah, I got this. You sit back and relax for a bit, yeah? Let me take care of you.” Sylvain pushes back. He’s never done this before, but he’s seen enough girls do it to know roughly how to move, even if the hip circles feel foreign to him when they’re happening on his end. He gets why they like it now, though. The slow grind pushes Dimitri’s cock up against his walls at shifting angles that make his cunt come alive with the feel of it- and the fucking _knot_. Fuck. He’s finally starting to get why people are willing to get bit and tied down to just one person for life, if this is how they feel. He could do this forever.

And then there’s Dimitri underneath him. Wide-eyed, pupils blown, hair haloing around his head on the pillow. He reeks of Sylvain now, in a way that makes something instinctual purr deep inside Sylvain’s chest. And the way he’s looking up at him- it’s almost worshipful. Like Sylvain is the second coming of the goddess herself.

Well, he can’t do the scriptural stuff. But he can definitely do this. He adds a little clench to the hip roll, moaning louder and finding it’s not at all theatrical. “Fuck, alpha,” he groans. “The way you feel in me, I- fuck…”

Dimitri swallows hard enough that Sylvain can see the bob of his throat, and nods. “Yes. And you- you are- Sylvain, I don’t know that I… nnh. That I have the words for it. I’m not sure they- they exist.”

“Pretty sure they do. They’re probably just a bit dirtier than princes are allowed to say.” Sylvain winks. “S’okay though. You can still think ‘em.”

“I- ah!” Sylvain cuts off Dimitri’s spluttering with a firmer push back against his cock, tipping his head back at the feeling of it shoving deep inside him. He puts a hand instinctively to his abdomen, as though he’d be able to feel the thrusts through it (as though Dimitri might knock him up, which is a thought that makes his cunt clench entirely of its own accord). “S-Sylvain…”

Oh, fuck, his voice is even hotter when he’s strung out and wrecked like this. Sylvain moans back at him, shifting his weight further back and rocking with abandon. The heat is creeping steadily higher, as though it knows it’s close to being sated properly, as if it knows what he wants. He bites his lip as Dimitri’s hands tighten on his hips- he must be close too, then- and reaches down to stroke his own cock.

It doesn’t take much to come. A few moments, a few desperate motions with his hand and he’s crying out again, his vision whiting out for a moment as his whole body shudders atop Dimitri. The alpha’s hips buck up against his and there’s another rush of cum that makes him shiver again. His body sags with the relief of it, plus the exhaustion that hits like a cart horse, and before he knows it there’s a warm pair of arms wrapping around his back and tugging him gently down.

He’s still trembling, he realises, mostly because it’s contrasted by how solid and warm Dimitri feels underneath him. He nuzzles against him on instinct, seeking out the crook of his neck to settle his face and take long, slow, shuddering breaths. Dimitri should probably push him away, but instead his hands move slowly over Sylvain’s back, one of them stroking in circles while the other shifts up to settle in his hair.

Sylvain wants to bite him so bad. He wants to be bitten even more. But that’s a terrible idea, even if he can’t quite remember why right now, so he doesn’t, because he wants to be good. Wants to please Dimitri. Wants to please his mate, even if they’re not properly mated yet. Even if they won’t ever be.

But he’s not gonna think about that just yet. Right now, his thighs are cramping a bit. His cunt is full. Dimitri is a living furnace beneath him and around him, and he feels warm and safe and wanted, even if he knows he’ll need to give it all up in the morning.

Right now, he can have this.


End file.
